Rats and Wine
by Katrina Marie Lupin
Summary: It's torment -- stuck in a shabby old house with a loathesome rat. An experiment with Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew -- No slash, I promise.


"Filthy, stinkin', pompous, nosy purist inbreeds, that's what they all are."

His voice slurred, but that was quite alright -- there was no one there to hear him. No one but himself, that was. The ghost-like presence that hovered around him, circling about the room like his Lord had his slick, dark purr of a voice.

"Purist inbreeds? Oh really? Changing your loyalties so soon, Severus? Not too long ago, it was 'filthy mudbloods' and all that. Even with Lily on that side of the spectrum. And what about your dear Bellatrix? Has she not done well for you? Are you taking your father's side for once?"

With a roar of anger, Severus threw the bottle of wine at the irritating conscience, seething for a moment before realising he'd just wasted his drink on nothing. He gave a deep sigh, resting his weary head on shaking hands. "What am I doing?" he asked himself meekly.

"You're making a fool of yourself, is what you're doing," the sultry voice replied, almost amused by his attack.

Severus looked up, as if to glare at the unseen presence, but merely sighed again in futility.

"Making a fool, and driving myself crazy at the same time."

He heard a creaking at the door, but paid it no mind. Probably Pettigrew, being nosy again. Or, if he was lucky, an Auror who'd found the worm and was coming to finish off any other Death Eaters he might have found in the house. Of course, that might be a bit conspicuous, seeing as how this was definitely deep in Muggle territory -- I don't think you could double or even triple an Auror's salary to get them to stir some Death Eater trouble in such a cramped industrial zone. Half of what made the place so safe. Severus scoffed. Safe. What mockery.

"Oi, Severus," Pettigrew's little voice piped up from behind him, a bit amused -- after all, he'd probably never seen a drunken Severus Snape, muttering to himself before. "Having a cuppa?"

Severus said nothing, instead seething, resting his head on the table. He hated that rat. That's what he was, after all -- betrayed the Potters (his dearest Lillianne...), then ran away with his tail tucked between his legs. Went and found the only place no one could find him -- the Weasley Burrow. Because, admit it: who would look for a Death Eater hiding as a Muggle-loving family's pet? One had to admit also that he was profoundly cleverer than anyone suspected. It's what made him good. Even Snape could respect that.

Pettigrew moved into his line of sight and picked up the largest piece of the bottle, tutting at the sheer amount of wine that had been wasted. Severus felt rather sad about it himself, the taste starting to fade from his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Pettigrew turn the bottle to see the brand, and he let out a little moan.

"Oh, that was a good year. If ya didn't want it, you coulda asked." He gave Severus a toothy grin, and Snape's curiousity turned into a glare before he stole back to his previous position, akin to an irate and tired dragon.

There was the rustling of glass as Pettigrew gathered it into one pile, then he pointed his wand at the whole mess and said, "_Evanesco._" The wine gone, he then swept up the smaller pieces with waves of his wand. Then he levitated the whole mess and placed it in the nearby sink.

"So..." Pettigrew started, turning to look to Severus with curiousity. "Narcissa and Bellatrix, eh? Used to be Blacks before they got married, right?"

Severus gave a tiny huff, a hint that he wasn't in a talking mood. Pettigrew smiled, knowing this, but continued anyway. "Cissy married Lucius Malfoy -- had a little boy, Draco. Man, she's possessive over that little tyke. This evening's display disregarded, I don't have to tell _you _how much she coddles him." He chuckled. "'Course, I think you prolly got a chance to nick some of those sweets he got every day at Hogwarts yourself from time to time, yeah? Being his Head of House?" He peered around at Severus, who was staring at some point on the opposite wall. Pettigrew checked, but there was nothing of interest. Severus' gaze was unseeing, but sorrowful and tense.

Pettigrew smirked. "Oh, c'mon, Severus..." he started.

"_Oh, c'mon, Peter_," Severus spat back, mocking him, turning to face him with his dormant, seething rage peeking through. "What, you want to be buddy-buddy? You want to be _friends_? Is that what you want, Pettigrew? _Wormtail_?"

That last one struck a cord, and Pettigrew narrowed his eyes at Severus. His wand was still in his hand, and he held it up to brandish at Snape as he spoke, letting his fellow Death Eater watch it warily. "Do you know what I think, Snape? I think..." And here he grinned, spreading his hands jovially. "...We need more wine. I'll go get some!"

If Pettigrew was trying to wrong-foot him, he certainly succeeded. Severus turned to watch the balding, roly-poly of a man as he dug into the pantry, humming some insanely happy tune as he picked through the wine bottles, finally choosing one that suited his fancy and returning. He put it on the counter before fishing about for two dusty wine glasses, and rinsed them off, the water splashing over the shattered glass, and then placed both glasses on the table. He filled them up, and then slid one to Severus.

"There you go, mate. Bottoms up." He picked up his glass and took a great swallow, then nearly spit it back up. He caught himself and quickly swallowed. Severus watched him with disturbed wonder as he belched and grinned. "Man, tha's good stuff, yeah?" He beamed at Severus' disbelieving eyes and gestured towards the drink. "C'mon, mate! We gotta live together, why not be a _little_ chummy chummy, eh?"

Severus grimaced at the drink. He had a rule of not taking a drink offered to him by another witch or wizard, particularly Death Eaters. Not that they would kill him for being a traitor, but for his position in the Dark Lord's service. Taking things by force and such.

"C'mon, Sev," Pettigrew tried, earning a death glare. "I swear, I ain't gonna kill ya. I have a lot more fun things planned for when that day comes, yeah?" He gave a rolling laugh that sounded just as ridiculous as Pettigrew looked, and Severus had to find the whole situation... well, ridiculous.

"I'm concerned, Pettigrew," he answered honestly, pulling the drink towards him. "When exactly was the last time you saw a woman not behind a mask before tonight?"

Pettigrew gaped, and Severus smirked. Pettigrew caught it and gave Severus an applauding finger. "You're good. I'll give ya that." He smiled into his glass. "You're very clever, Snape. Very clever."

"Yet not clearly as clever as you," Severus replied, looking up at the rat with curiousity. "Out of all the people in the world... the Weasleys?"

"Oi, I'll have you know that woman is one 'elluva cook. _And_ Arthur had aspirations of being an Auror for some time, y'know. Good buddy-buddy with Alastor Moody, actually."

The name made Severus flinch, but Pettigrew didn't seem to notice. "I figured -- good food, good resource... and 'ell. Oo's gonna look fer a Death Eater as a Muggle-lovin' family's pet?"

Severus nodded. "I was wondering if you were clever enough to think of that last part yourself, or if it was a mere coincidence." Severus smirked. "After all, I noticed you mentioned Molly's cooking first."

"It really is good st--" Pettigrew stopped, and peered suspiciously at Snape, now sipping his wine. "Molly? Bit familiar, yeah?"

"Arthur?" he replied. "Remember, she's not the only woman in the house."

"She was when I made the choice. And yes, I gotta differentiate. Of the dozen weasels they got in there, all but two of 'em are male. But Ginny didn't cook when I made me choice."

Severus shrugged -- let it be no big deal. Inside, however, he cursed himself for such a careless mistake. This wine was making him a bit too friendly.

"But you know who else was a 'elluva cook?" Severus braced himself as he looked up. Pettigrew was smiling in remembrance. "Mrs. Potter."

Severus glared. "Lily Potter?"

"No, James' mother. I remember when we went to his place over the summers -- man, she could cook a mean stew. Mm. Although Lily was rather good, 'erself."

"I'd imagine," Severus replied lightly. "She was an excellent Potions Mistress." Better than him, even. He'd tried so hard to keep up with her. When they stopped talking, she flew right past him... If it weren't for the fact that the copy of Advanced Potion-Making she used was once his, he probably wouldn't have all her tricks. She probably suspected something of the sort when he asked for his book back at the end of seventh year.

Severus was sipping his wine a bit more than before, now, lost in his thoughts, and didn't notice Pettigrew's considering eye.

"She was that. Weren't you two on much better terms when you were younger?"

Severus grimaced -- that wine nearly went down the wrong tube. "A _lot_ younger," he replied. "She hated my guts for the most part."

"Ah, but what about you?" Pettigrew asked, teasing, the wine making him bold. "I remember you two were nigh inseparable, up until about fif' year. Wha' 'appened? I remember you used to sleep at the Gryffindor Tower's portrait hole for a communion with her."

"That was once," Severus growled. "And it was... a last act of desperation." He sighed. "She wouldn't have me."

"She wouldn't have me, either, mate, but she was pretty enough to be as picky as she pleased." He gave a grating laugh, and Severus snarled.

"Yes, Pettigrew, yes," he answered bitterly. But then he gave another depressed sigh. "She did have that right."

Pettigrew swallowed another swig of wine. "So, is that why you turned to this stuff? Death Eating? Because I coulda sworn you were into this stuff a lot longer than that."

Severus turned to him sharply, and Pettigrew was surprised at the amount of loathing in his eyes. "'Death Eating' is a matter of serving the Dark Lord -- although if by 'stuff' you truly mean the Dark Arts, yes, I was 'into' that a lot longer than our schoolboy unpleasantries." He himself took another a swig of wine, and Pettigrew got the hint that he was venturing in unfriendly territories.

"So..." Stepping away from Lily. "What got you into the Dark Arts, then?"

Severus watched the wine swirl in his glass. "Family, actually."

Pettigrew smirked. "Auntie teach you tricks or summat?"

"I wish," he answered honestly. "My father was not favoured by most members of my mother's family. They also weren't very… subtle about it. I was taught to defend myself from an early age, should a family get-together go awry. I learned, protected myself and my family, and got very good at it, enjoyed my lessons, even. A little too much, some might say, but…" He shrugged uselessly. "Even knowing every dark spell or potion in the world doesn't always get you what you want, eh?"

His fellow swirled his own drink, contemplating that. "Yeah. Spells don't buy you happiness."

They shared a companionable silence, and Severus drained his cup. He gave a sigh, and then slid it to Pettigrew. The animagus smirked and served him another.

"What about you, Pettigrew?" Snape asked, taking his drink. "What is your story?"

He grinned. "Ah. Average bloke. You and Evans and Potter and Black saw to that. You and Evans showing me up in Potions, Potter in Charms – Black in pretty much everything else. And then Remus…" He shook his head. "You know, I never really agreed with that bit."

"What bit?"

"Remus. Lupin. Werewolf. Hanging out with Dark creatures. You know, they purposely change your name when you get bit – they really do, I looked it up. 'Cos, Fenrir Greyback? Remus Lupin? I mean, honestly. You don't much pick 'em, either, so's I would hate to be bit – imagine, if the secretary is feeling irritable that day, eh?" He gave a chuckle, and Severus managed a weak smile. "Dark creatures. I don't much like Greyback, either. And, being what I am, they always made me do all the dirty work – and I mean that in the most literal way possible. Opening locks, nickin' things, spyin' about… And they treated me like a fool, too, thinkin' they're so clever because – you know what they did? They used Absorption Charms to learn all their work. One summer, when they were very bored, just learned everything. Didn't bother to tell the rest of us that. I eventually said the hell with it, and played dumb. I think that's how I ended up fooling them all in the end."

The bitter taste in Snape's mouth had nothing to do with the wine. "Do you regret it, Peter?" he whispered softly.

At that, Peter's eyes met Snape's – both beady and alert – both searching.

Finally, Peter answered, "Do you know, I do. It was a shame for Lily to die – even if she was a Mudblood, she was a wonderful witch, and I really did love her. As a sister, mind, or a mate's girl, but I did. Mind, James was foolish – too trusting. His son, likewise. But Lily was a good heart."

Snape looked down at his glass, the merlot red like blood. Even the word "Mudblood" being used to refer to that angel made his blood boil, but at the same time, he was flooded with despair. His black garb was not so dark because of the Dark Lord's service, or even the Dark Arts that he was so fond of, but as a token of his mourning for her loss. All these many years later, she still haunted his nightmares, and here was the man who'd done it – the one truly responsible. If Snape was a turncoat, what was Pettigrew? A loathsome creature, fit only to serve the other Death Eaters – even with the "sacrifices" he'd made for the Cause – a battered hand, long nights playing milk maid to an imp of a man – were scoffable. More than anything else, Severus would have loved very much to have killed Pettigrew – he needed only a reason.

Still, he had a duty here, same as Snape, and they both had to do their duties. As horrible as it was for Pettigrew to be forced to serve Snape, it seemed to be even worse that he had to house the foul creature. A traitor with a heart blacker than Snape's own, sitting here sipping his well-earned wine with his greedy, grubby, turncoat paws. Still, it was true – he had a duty here, same as Snape, and they both had to do their duties.

Snape raised his glass to the dusty light hanging above him. "To Lily Evans."

Pettigrew smirked. "To Lily Evans."

Their glasses clinked, and Snape drained his glass.


End file.
